


repression

by ochotonidae



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: (well more like the subconscious), Caring Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Gore, Protective Deceit | Janus Sanders, Self-Esteem Issues, Sensory Deprivation, The Void, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, falling, i meant for him to just be ignorant but it can be read like that, mentioned arguments and yelling, remus-typical imagery, sorta?, tell me if i need to tag anything else please
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29740923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ochotonidae/pseuds/ochotonidae
Summary: Remus was falling. Well, he thought so, at least. Something had to be happening, because he certainly wasn’t on the ground.It had been so long. Surely somebody must have noticed by now. That… meant that they didn’t care.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 6
Kudos: 52





	repression

**Author's Note:**

> honestly i don't know where this idea came from

Remus was falling. Well, he thought so, at least. Something had to be happening, because he certainly wasn’t on the ground.

He couldn’t see much, the dark void around him flickering into static when he tried to focus on anything. (He didn’t quite know if his eyes were open or not, but it didn’t seem like it made a difference).

A piercing note rang through his ears, stabbing through his mind and shaking his thoughts loose to the point where he couldn’t keep track of them. (Well, it’s not like he could do that very well in the first place, but still). It rose to a droning whine, pitch wavering.

As far as he could tell, he was face-up, limbs extended out in front of him and arms reaching for a nonexistent saviour. His hair was blowing back and forth in a breeze that the rest of him couldn’t seem to feel, and gravity was tugging at him (although it seemed to be much less than usual).

Remus didn’t quite remember what was going on before this. He’d… hmm. What was he doing? He remembered antagonizing Roman as he whispered obscenities into Thomas’s thoughts and then being yelled out of the room. He had gone to his room, and then… nothing.

Roman had really been angry, though. He was funny like that. He would scream at Remus over jokes, like when Remus brought a Kraken-Godzilla to destroy the docks in Roman’s little fantasy village (it was really funny, you should have been there). Roman had yelled at him for half an hour straight (Remus was just watching how his ears flamed red when he got mad) and banned him from the “good” half of the Imagination (like that was going to stop him). Roman hadn’t talked to him for a couple months after that, though. That part wasn’t so fun. Even when they argued, it had always gone back to normal within a couple days. They were brothers like that.

This time was the worst. Roman had _shrieked_ at him. Like, to the point that Remus felt something prickling at his eyes that _weren’t_ tears. Definitely not. He’d left when Roman had ~~asked~~ demanded (which was extremely rare) him to go, and he was _not_ sad.

Remus was cold. It was weird, because he was wearing his normal costume with the long sleeves and pinstripe pants. But a chill spread through him nonetheless, and he was left to shiver. It felt like ice, creeping through his veins and numbing his body. Frost spiderwebbing across his skin in morbid beauty. Maybe he’d freeze solid, shattering into a million pieces if he ever hit the ground.

There were colours. Strange, he’d thought it was still dark. They popped and sparked in his eyes like fireworks, crackling with brilliance. It was bright, and when Remus tried to cringe away he found it follow him. It was kind of nice though, seeing colours again. A (not really) pleasant change from the everlasting darkness.

Patton had been there too, he thought, when Roman was yelling at him. He hadn’t interrupted Roman to defend Remus, but he hadn’t contributed to the yelling either. Remus did notice his eye twitch when he’d tried to talk back to Roman, however; and he’d seen Patton whisper something to Thomas as Remus had beat a hasty retreat.

Did Patton know he was here? (Where was here?) Would Patton try to help him? He probably needed help, seeing as he was still falling. It seemed like a bit too long to be falling to be normal. But Patton probably wouldn’t help him. He was a bother at best (what he strived to be), but a downright anathema at worst. It didn’t seem very logical (although that was Logan’s job) to want to help him from wherever he was right now, where he couldn’t reach Thomas.

Wherever he was. It’d been a long time. At one point, he’d tried to count the seconds as they ticked by. He’d gotten to ten thousand before getting distracted by a passing idea and letting it play out through his mind.

The flashing lights had morphed into faces, staring him down with disapproval and annoyance. Remus regarded them with vague interest, but he didn’t have enough energy to focus. It was _so_ cold.

He could barely gather his thoughts. They ran in loops around his mind, just out of reach of his grasp. But he knew that the twisted shadow growing in the back of his mind was fear. There was no shame in it here, wherever he was. Nobody would know. So Remus was afraid (that still felt weird to think).

Somehow, he’d moved to a head-first fall. His arms hung loosely at his sides, head tilted towards his chest. If he hit the ground, his skull would shatter immediately. But Remus couldn’t find enough in him to worry. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him.

Logan would probably scold him for thinking like that. Something or other about “cognitive distortions” and “self-deprecation”. Remus wouldn’t listen (of course), but he’d always appreciated how Logan talked to him like he was another side. It was nice.

Logan treated him like himself, instead of just “Roman’s twin”. He listened to Remus instead of just dismissing him. It felt good to be acknowledged. Logan talked him through the thoughts when they became too much and Remus couldn’t gather the clarity to sink out, giving him a lifeline to hold onto and cutting through the irrationality with facts. He’d answer Remus’s questions, talking through his ideas and even asking questions back. Remus had even seen Logan smile at him when he thought he wasn’t looking.

Maybe Logan would help him, if he were here. That was a nice thought.

One of the few discernible ones left.

It had been so long. Surely _somebody_ must have noticed by now. That… meant that they didn’t care.

Nobody cared.

Well- Janus cared, he supposed. Janus had always been nice to him. Remus appreciated that. It was good to have an ally in a world with only six other people. They’d stuck together like an incessant leech on an unknowing frog, Remus the ball and chain that kept Janus from getting a seat at the table with his inappropriate contributions.

But despite that, Janus never let slip that he didn’t like Remus. He would tuck Remus against his side whenever the thoughts became too much, humming softly and letting him scream it out. They watched horror movies together, where Remus would giggle at the pathetic attempt to scare them and Janus would poke holes in the plot (but still grab onto Remus’s arm whenever there was a jumpscare).

Maybe Janus would even miss him. Would… celebrate his birthday, just like they always did. Make cupcakes (Janus insisted on making them himself, so he didn’t have to eat whatever Remus decided to throw in the batter for fun’s sake (a good decision)), decorate them together (Virgil used to make the best ones), and watch movies all day (the same ones each year). They’d always watch The Black Cauldron and The Jungle Book (Janus’s favourite), even after Virgil had left. Then, though, the former was often accompanied by at least a few tears.

Maybe Janus would deign to remember Remus.

He would be grateful.

But right now, Remus’s heart was thumping rabbit-fast; breath coming in quick gasps as he finally registered his fate.

The faces were jeering, mocking him.

Thomas was shaking his head in disappointment.

He couldn’t move. His body was frozen as he fell, hair ruffling in the breeze.

It hurt. Everything hurt. He didn’t know why he was here or how he got here, but he knew that this place _hurt_.

He didn’t like it.

It felt like he was going to hit the ground soon. Remus could have sworn it had been days since he started falling.

Maybe he’d splatter onto solid ground, flattening like a pancake. His bones would shatter, splinters puncturing his lungs and heart and making sure that he was dead. His skin would split open, letting his guts spill out onto the ground.

He’d lie on the ground for eternity (or until Thomas died), body broken with a pool of blood growing slowly around him, cursed to an existence (or lack thereof) composed of pain and suffering and nothing.

But then there was light.

Light peeked past from below him, illuminating his body.

Why was there light?

Remus tried to turn to look at it, but it burned his eyes.

Was that… his octopus blanket? It was getting closer. What was his room doing there?

Purple?

Touch.

He collapsed into a pair of arms, legs giving out underneath him. The familiar warmth of Virgil’s hoodie enveloped him as he breathed in the scent of lavender and peppermint.

It was so warm.

“Virgil-” he choked out, letting out a sob when arms came up to pull him into a tight embrace.

Virgil was here. Virgil, with his warm hoodie and soft words that only came out when he was comforting another. The way he’d cradle Remus’s head, idly running his hands through his hair. The way he’d press a kiss to Remus’s forehead when things got to be too much, and hug him until he tired himself out.

Remus had missed him so much.

“I’ve got you. You’re safe, Remus. I’m so sorry I didn’t get you sooner,” Virgil murmured, voice muffled by the pounding heartbeat in Remus’s ear.

“Just take a deep breath for me, okay? In for four, hold for seven, out for eight.” Virgil counted as Remus shakily followed the exercise, feeling the sobs recede after a few minutes.

“Don’t worry, okay? You’re not going back there. I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.” Virgil tapped out the rhythm on his thigh, calmly waiting as Remus regained control of his breathing.

“You with me?” Remus nodded shakily, burrowing deeper into Virgil’s arms.

“Alright. Can you talk right now, or no?” He shrugged.

“That’s okay. You can rest for now. I’m… sorry about Patton. I know that he didn’t know what he was doing, but I’ll have to talk to him. I’ll talk to all of them. They don’t really know as much about the Mindscape as we do, so they’re more likely to do something bad without meaning. I’m just… so sorry.”

Remus frowned.

“Patton did that?” he asked, voice weak.

“I-” Virgil looked away. “Essentially, yeah.”

“Oh.”

Who had Remus been kidding, of course _Patton_ wouldn’t’ve wanted to help him. Did… did Patton tell Thomas to Repress him? They’d been over why that was bad, right? Did Patton really hate him enough to directly ignore what Logan said?

That must have been a lot of Repression.

It had hurt.

Remus hadn’t liked it.

It was scary, and not much scared him.

“Remus!” the door slammed open, and he felt Virgil flinch violently. Janus stood in the doorway, breath heaving.

“You’re… here. Good, that’s good. I- do you feel okay?”

Janus’s shoulders were shaking minutely, and Remus could see the other four hands fidgeting while clasped behind his back. His jaw was clenched shut, eyes flicking over Remus nervously.

Remus nodded, making grabby hands at him.

Janus walked over awkwardly, stumbling when Remus grabbed his hand and yanked him down.

“Hug me, I’ve just been traumatized,” he joked (although his voice was undercut with a tremble).

Janus didn’t hesitate to wrap six arms around him, looking terribly out of place in such a position but staying still.

“I’m sorry,” Janus murmured into his ear. “I’m so sorry darling, I didn’t notice that you were in the Subconscious instead of the Imagination until just now. I can’t imagine how long it must have felt for you. I’m so sorry, dear.”

“How long- how long _was_ it?”

Janus sighed, running his thumb along Remus’s knuckles idly.

“A few hours for us, but at least a day for you. Time is different in the depths of Thomas’s Mind.”

“Oh.”

At least… it hadn’t been that long for them? That was a normal amount of time for Remus to be gone. He’d stayed in the Imagination for days before.

“It was… a really long time.”

Why was his voice so small?

“Remus? Can you look at me?”

Oh, right. His eyes were closed.

He looked over at Janus, the side’s eyes filled with concern.

“Stay with us, kay?” Virgil squeezed his hand. “We’re here. I'm not leaving. Not again.”

"Right.”

They were here. He wasn't alone.

Remus was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, comments and kudos are appreciated, and please don't hesitate to let me know if anything I wrote was rude/offensive (or even just a grammar mistake)!


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